Four Letters
by wolfergirl
Summary: Chapter 23: Swat. "Well, you're annoying sometimes, but I don't try to kill you!" Oneshots based on four letter words following Caskett's family life.
1. Kate

**Yes, I know I've got another fic on the go. Yes, I know I'm lousy at updating. But hey, I liked this idea, so I wrote it.**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

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Kate. From the day she introduced herself (Mr Castle? Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD) the name had meant something important to him. It was strong; a stubborn name for a stubborn woman. It suited her, he often said. 'Katie' seemed too gentle for the bad-ass detective, but he never told her that. 'Katie' had been her name in a more peaceful life, before she had known him.

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She loved the way he said her name, how he seemed to caress the monosyllabic word. She had heard it said many times, many ways: the harsh tone of a furious bellow, followed by the loving, gentle whisper after a long case when she was in his arms and they were all that mattered.

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**Yes, no, maybe so?**

**Reviews would be much appreciated, along with suggestions for other four-lettered words.**

**Updates will be roughly weekly, unless there's no interest.**

**If you're looking for a slightly different plot than usual, go have a ganders at my co-written fic on A. Pseudonimo's account: _Queen of Thieves_ - it's Castle a la Robin Hood.**

**Have a great week!**

**~wolfergirl**


	2. Rick

**Two of you are following this, so thank you! You may be the only two reading, in that case...**

**Thanks to Guest for the review :)**

**For Vicky, who rekindled my muse and who makes me study :P**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

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She couldn't remember when he became 'Rick' rather than 'Castle'. At first she had detested the idea that she wasn't the first to call him that out of love until he informed her that he had been 'Ricky' or 'Richard' to Gina, and more often than not 'Kitten' to Meredith. She claimed it, then.

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Every time his name tumbled from her lips in a breathless gasp he fell in love with her a little bit more. It symbolised a closeness that she had only recently granted him, when he had broken down her wall and peeled back the layers of the Beckett onion. Quickly it had become one of his favourite sounds, the often impatient exclamation as he gave in to his childish whims. Today, it had been tickling. She had never seemed like the ticklish type, but the squeal of his name his gentle attack had elicited had proved him otherwise.

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**This one's short, and the majority of them range from 100-250 words. That said, today I churned out a 1300 one. **

**Requests/prompts gladly received, as are reviews!**

**Laters**

**~wolfergirl**


	3. Love

**With thanks to Prim-Rue94 :)**

**Thanks also go to Anon Reader for the prompts of Hope, Baby, and Love, and for all of you marvellous people who alerted/favourited/reviewed/any combination of the three. I love every last one of you.**

**For Dale and Joké****, for providing me with 150 four-letter words, 120 of which will probably make an appearance**

**I don't own anything you recognise :)**

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When she whispered it to him, standing on that bomb, his heart had exploded into too many emotions to count.

There was elation – because she finally said those three little words that he had said to her time and time again. To hear it dropping from her lips full of sincerity, adoration and feeling. To hear what he already knew confirmed. To hear it made it real.

There was terror – because he knew that she was convinced she wouldn't survive. It scared him that this remarkable, maddening, challenging, frustrating woman was giving up. The Kate Beckett he knew did not give up. The Kate Beckett he knew fought til the last breath – or at least, the last cup of coffee.

And there was love – because who couldn't love this caring, beautiful woman whose tears he couldn't wipe away for fear of her splitting into a billion tiny pieces scattered all over New York, but eternally embedded in his heart.

Love, because he loved her.

Love, because she loved him.

Love, because as long as they had each other, nothing could stand in their way.

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**Fluffiness for you all :D**

**I have decided (with Prim-Rue94's help) that updates shall be every Wednesday, although there may be additional updates because I have become hooked on this. Particularly as most of them are easy to write on a bus or something...**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

**Toodle pip, mes amis**

**~wolfergirl**


	4. Baby

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. This is another one of Anon Reader's requests: Baby. The third, Hope, is more challenging than I thought, so may or may not be the next one...**

**For Harry, my own Castle**

**I don't own anything you recognise :)**

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She was having a baby. A baby. With Castle. A Castle baby. The words still sounded odd. Unfamiliar. Baby. That word meant commitment, it meant love, and it meant a future. Was she ready for that? She had spent so long hunting and being hunted, how could she condemn this baby, this child before they'd even been born? Was there a future for her with this adorable, hilarious man she had the privilege to know in more ways than one? What if he didn't want her, or the baby?

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They were having a baby. Well she was. He would be the one standing there, terrified out of his mind that his kick-ass wife would kill him during childbirth as she screeched expletives to the world and its dog. Oh, he couldn't wait. Soon there would be tiny feet running around the loft again, someone else to play laser tag with and to teach the tricks of the trade to.

Names! Maybe she wouldn't call their child Nikki, but maybe he could convince her to let him choose the middle name. She was going to be a great mother, he knew. Together, they would be the cool parents. He'd be the dad who was laid back and let the kid do what they wanted, and she would be the tough mum who would storm into school to defend him or her, but generally be the support for both him (as the overprotective dad, obviously) and the baby.

Oh.

Overprotective.

He was going to have to do the whole 'Talk' thing again, and the dating thing, and the intimidation, and the changing diapers, and the early mornings and the late nights.

And she couldn't have coffee. He was dead.

But still. Their baby!

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**Reviews most gladly received, as are prompts/requests.**

**See you next week! :D**

**~wolfergirl**


	5. Hate

***falls off chair* wait - what? All those reviews? For this? Wow people, you really are amazing :D**

**I**** had to physically restrain myself from updating yesterday...if I update everyday, I'll run out of chapters :P**

**This one is a companion to the next one (secretive, huh?). I had already written this, but TheCat91 suggested a 'hate' chapter where it's "like on Grey's Anatomy when Meredith and Derek promised "to love eachother even when they hate eachother" ". Yay or nay, readers? I'm happy to do another one.**

**At the risk of the author's notes becoming longer than the chapter, I just wanted to thank Anon Reader for all of the prompts. I'm pleased to say I have an idea for 'wine', and the others are currently brewing up a storm in my already overactive imagination...thanks also to Guest for 'hero'.**

**For Harry, my own Castle (you know, Harry, you'd get that reference so much more if you actually watched the show)**

**I don't own anything you recognise :)**

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That smug, cocky, leering expression had instilled the beginnings of hate in her. Constantly acting like an immature, egotistical, self-centred jackass had spoiled the potentially fun-to-have-around personality that might possibly lurk in the famous writer.

But when he had picked her story apart with that cavalier smirk, all traces – whatever small – of respect had vanished.

He had no right.

No right to be poking at her constantly to get a little laugh.

She hated it.

She hated that someone who had met her for a matter of days could read her like a book.

She hated that he could reduce her to a weak, snivelling little girl in front of her colleagues.

But most of all, she hated that he had got it spot on.

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**I think I have quite successfully doubled the length of the chapter with the AN up there...**

**Reviews are love and Jaffa cakes!**

**See you soon**

**~wolfergirl :D**


	6. Book

**Pretty metaphor heavy, this one. I'm quite proud of it :)**

**As I mentioned, this is an unintentional companion to last chapter - I wrote both separately, went back and read them, and yeah...**

**Thanks go to everyone who reviewed/favourite/followed, especially saved240307 for the 70ish prompts! Should be interesting *rubs hands together gleefully***

**For you, the reader. Without you, this would be nothing.**

**I doubt Marlowe is currently revising for his GCSEs. I don't own anything you recognise.**

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He wrote them, she read them; that's how it worked. Her bedside table was a pile of Nikki Heats, propped against one of his old promotional mugs, taking pride of place next to her father's watch and mother's ring. Every time he caught sight of the mini-shrine, as he liked to call it, his heart squeezed a little with the sheer amount of adoration he had for the beautiful woman currently snuffling quietly into her pillow, arms thrown out wide across the bed and pinning him to the mattress.

He often compared her to a book.

She was her own genre, a mystery to everyone.

Her blurb read "Dangerous woman with a gun, beware of extreme emotions and a tough exterior."

The reviews listed on her cover were "Youngest Woman in the NYPD to Make Detective – a must read"; "Written with real finesse. A credit to the author"; "An emotional rollercoaster with unexpected twists throughout."

From the day he met her, she had captured his attention, much like the posters advertising signings in the corner bookshop. It had been a struggle to get through the first couple of chapters, the complex plot not yet apparent, but he had fought past the cheesy characters and the stolen one-liners to find that he could read her more easily than anticipated.

"_Under most circumstances, you should not be here. Most smart good-looking women become lawyers, not cops. You're not bridge-and-tunnel, no trace of the boroughs when you talk, so that means Manhattan, and that means money. You went to college, probably a pretty good one, you had options – yeah, you had lots of options, better options, more socially acceptable options; and you still chose this. That tells me that something happened. Not to you – you're wounded, but you're not that wounded. No, it was somebody you cared about. It was someone you loved. And you probably could've lived with that, but the person responsible was never caught."_

She had been a challenge. Past tense. Now, he was nearing the end of _the_ _Chronicles of Beckett_ to find the conclusion revealed and her open and receptive to his tentative turns of the page.

They were reaching their happy ending.

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**Thoughts?**

**Reviews are love - thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, particularly those who have reviewed EACH CHAPTER BECAUSE THEY ARE SO AWESOME.**

**Next chapter, we meet the future Castles...it's a long chapter folks. Over a thousand words. Wouldn't want to miss that, would you? ;)**

***throws Jaffa cakes***

**~wolfergirl**


	7. Cola

**Yes, I know I promised a long chapter about the future Castles, but that's on Wednesday. I wasn't planning on updating today but I saw something about this on Tumblr and had a moment of inspiration combined with coffee, exhaustion and an amazingly adorable boyfriend...**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed - you're all awesome :)**

**Marlowe definitely does not having an exam he should have been revising for...I don't own anything you recognise.**

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"Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate, KATE! Kaaaaaaaaaaate! Kate! Wake up! Kate!" She flung out an arm to shut the alarm up. "Owwwww! Kaaaate!" The alarm turned whiny. Oh, the alarm was a voice. Why was there a voice in her dream full of ducks? It was pulling her away from the little fluffy ducklings that were nibbling the edge of her pants, and she liked Ducky One, and Ducky Two, and Momma Duck, and she didn't _want_ to wake up, so why was there this voice waking her up when she just wanted to sleep and-

"Oof!" Ok, she was definitely awake. All trace of the dream was gone, and instead there was a fully dressed Richard Castle bouncing up and down on the bed on his knees, hovering over her and letting out a wail in the shape of her name. "Rick?" she yawned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. "What the hell are you doing? I was enjoying sleeping."

"Kate! There are Cola bottles with names on and I wanna go find mine because it's awesome and we can find your and Alexis's and please can we go and get some, please please please Kate?"

She groaned. Trust her nine-year-old-on-a-sugar-rush to get excited about stupid Cola bottles. Swinging her legs out of bed, she rolled out and padded through to the bathroom, stifling another yawn with the back of her hand as she flicked his head on the way past. A squawk from her husband made her smile. He was annoying, but she loved him anyway.

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Half an hour later Castle was dragging her by her hand to the store to investigate this new 'phenomenon', as he had labelled it. A noise of excitement escaped him as he caught sight of the gigantic arrow pointing them in the right direction, and she had to jog to keep up with his abnormally long strides, muttering apologies as she accidentally bashed into people.

"Rick," she hissed as they skidded into the soft drinks aisle. "Can you try and be a bit less-"

"There they are!" he shouted gleefully, ignoring her completely as he dived towards the shelf, throwing bottles over his shoulder in his eagerness. She watched him, torn between shock, embarrassment and amusement, and settled back to enjoy the show.

Within seconds a bottle-shaped missile was catapulted at her and she ducked instinctively, managing to catch the object and cling on.

"It's yours!" Castle cried. Yes, she'd guessed that. 'KATHERINE' glared out at her from the regular Coca-Cola coloured label, proudly announcing the fact that it was a genuine article. "But I can't find mine!" Kate sighed. She should probably enter into the name-hunt if she wanted to go home this side of midnight.

"Look, there's a Diet Coke one with 'Richard' on," she pointed next to the shelf he had demolished. "What about that one?"

"I don't want a Diet Coke," he whined, pouting petulantly at her. She couldn't help but laugh.

"Really? You drag me here at some ungodly hour-"

"It's eight o'clock!"

"On a Saturday! You drag me here to find some stupid thing with your name on, but it's not the right flavour? God, you are such a child!" He scowled at her and sat back on his haunches to send a reproachful glare in her direction.

"I want a proper one!" he insisted. "I'm going next door."

"Wait – what?"

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That was how she found herself travelling from store to damn store in search of a regular Coca-Cola bottle with his name on it. They were in the final one along the high street, and there was still no sign of the coveted item.

"Really? Again?" Castle eventually sighed in defeat after having upturned yet another shelf. Inwardly, Kate did a joyful dance, patting her husband on the arm and smiling patiently.

"There there, Ricky boy," she grinned. "There'll be one somewhere."

"I just don't think they do them!"

"Must be some joke of the universe," she smirked. "You know, getting you back for one of those mean tricks you've played on me."

"Mean tricks?" he protested wildly, swigging from her bottle. "What mean tricks?"

"Oh, like the time when…"

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**Reviews are Casketty goodness as part of your five-a-day :)**

**Gotta run, much love and Jaffa cakes**

**~wolfergirl**


	8. Boys

**As promised, I present to you the future Castles!**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed - you're all amazing!**

**Marlowe is not currently practicing walking in the death traps that are high heels...(safety warning: avoid them at all costs. They're evil.) I don't own anything you recognise.**

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Kate Beckett had often been outnumbered by men. She was a woman in a very male-dominated job, and as a girl had often hung out with the boys, preferring their antics to those of the girls in her area.

So when the only children she produced were boys, no one was more amused than her father.

"You know," he told Castle after the announcement of his first grandson's birth. "Until Katie found out how babies were made, she was constantly asking us for a big brother, and was devastated when we told her it was impossible." Kate had glared sleepily at Jim as she nursed Nathan Alexander, causing both her husband and her father to chuckle.

When they had taken their son home, it was clear that Rick was going to join in the childish actions of the new-born. More often than not she found them face to face giggling or blowing bubbles of saliva at each other, and it had only gotten funnier as Nathan got older, and then Nicolas came along. The pair of them were inseparable. The seven-year-old was incredibly protective of 'Nicky' who tottered around on toddler's legs after his older brother, insisting he do everything that 'Afe' got to do. Her three boys – or men, as Nate insisted – were incorrigible. Day after day she would come home to find them perched side by side on the kitchen counter with flour in their hair and egg shells scattered around them as they spread gooey cake mixture on her recently cleaned work surface.

Possibly the most trying time was when the third one came along: James arrived four weeks premature just as Rick had left to fly out to a conference about the next Nikki Heat film. Nathan was thirteen and was entering into his first bout of teenage rebellion. His impatience with his parents transferred to Nicky and the house was always filled with their angry shouts as they fought, loudly and dramatically. Neither of them were enthusiastic about another sibling and throughout her pregnancy Kate had to coax them into helping reorganise their old things for the incoming arrival. After their little brother was born it had all changed, but the absence of their father over the first two days proved stressful for them all.

After the twins were born, she swore to Castle that they were never having any more. He was happy to agree – after all, he had his team of five plus Alexis. The youngest boys – Matthew and Joseph – learnt at a young age that their father was the one to turn to if they wanted something in particular, usually an item that Kate had banned after previous experience with one of the others. One time it was custard in the water guns during the summer vacation: Nathan and Nicolas were permanently under scrutiny from the neighbours after they had sprayed caramel sauce all over the building, and she was definitely not going to deal with a similar scenario. Unfortunately Nate would enthusiastically encourage them whenever they visited the college dorms, but she had sternly washed her hands of any and all consequences.

She had found a safe haven in her step-daughter. Alexis was always more of a friend than a daughter, someone she could run to and with whom she could shelter from the current storm of testosterone in the loft. Add in Lanie, and their girly nights in could turn into moments of extreme hilarity, like the time they climbed onto Alexis's kitchen furniture and played air guitar to Queen. Alexis's husband had quickly run out to join Castle and the boys, picking up Kevin and Javi on the way, desperate to avoid the giggling, slightly drunk women stumbling around his living room. As her children grew, it became easier for Kate to spend nights out, but she would always return in time to oversee the bedtime routine and take Castle to bed, dragging him away from whatever gadget he had picked up this time.

Even in the workplace, she was an honorary mother. Promoted to Captain three years after James was born, she was known around the entirety of the NYPD for her protectiveness of all her detectives. Her longest standing 'kids' were obviously Ryan and Esposito. There was a photo of the three of them on her desk next to the Castle family photo from their first days in Homicide. They had started off like brothers to her, intimidating any boyfriend she may have (much to her chagrin) and dragging her along to the pub where they attempted to outdrink her. It had continued like that – and in some ways, still did – but she knew that the beginning of Castle's NYPD career had them calling the pair 'Mom' and 'Dad'. And in a way, she was _in loco parentis_ – they were a team, and she was their leader, setting an example for her boys to follow.

But what had irked her was Castle's dismissive attitude to their sons' often irresponsible actions. His excuse was that he had been the same with Alexis, but she told him over and over that Alexis was one amazing woman that raised him more than he raised her, and that their five boys would not ground themselves for jumping a turnstile, so he had to be stricter. Nothing doing, apparently, so she had turned her strict-mother-who-is-only-looking-out-for-you-but- carries-a-gun-so-beware glare on, reducing all five young men to quivering wrecks as they wrote out reasons why they would not pretend to be Tarzan while drunk, nor would they fill the elevator with balloons or hide dozens of yellow rubber ducks in their college professors' offices. As for Castle, he was confined to the couch for three days while he thought about the negative points of replacing her shampoo with bright green hair dye.

None of them had inherited either parent's understanding of looking smart but being comfortable. At Alexis's wedding she had had to shove them into suits and plead with them to brush their hair, looking to Rick for help only to find him studying his own reflection in the mirror. All five boys had got their father's 'ruggedly handsome' looks and twinkling blue eyes, and Kate found herself welling up with pride at their own weddings as they gazed at their brides with the same love that had never died in Castle's.

Even when they were all adults, the twins at 22, James at 27, Nicky at 35 and Nate at 40, they would meekly follow her as she led them and their own broods through the park as they went for a Christmas morning stroll. And Castle would still bring up the rear, tripping over his shoelaces that he had neglected to retie the other six times and whining about how he was too old to exercise.

As always, a well-calculated, long-suffering look of adoration tinged with exasperation would colour Kate Beckett's features, as she slowed to peck her husband on the cheek. "We'll cuddle later, Castle."

They were her boys, and her boys forever.

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**How'd I do? Reviews would be lovely, please :)**

**(I always wanted a big brother...*sigh* I just had to adopt my friends' instead)**

**Prompts/requests are still welcome! I have a long summer in which to write, so send them on up!**

**Laters**

**~wolfergirl**


	9. Ring

**Ok, so this is your weekly update, as I won't have a chance to update tomorrow (last GCSE exam, friends back etc.) - however, you also get an extra one on Thursday as a) this is short and b) I didn't stick to my timetable...**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, especially Prim-Rue94, uofmcowgirl and saved240307 who have religiously reviewed each chapter :D**

**For my SeaMonkey - love you :)**

**Oh yeah, and this is now AU :D**

**I don't own anything you recognise**

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He had had it for weeks, constantly burning a hole in his pocket. It was never the right time. He always came back to what she'd said to Ryan about his proposal: 'most women would prefer something intimate'. He could do big, extravagant. Both Meredith and Gina had been the type to love the money – but he knew that Kate would detest a huge affair. He'd thought of going for a meal, but if she said no – well, for one thing, it would be humiliating, for another he would want to be able to just curl up and cry. Maybe spontaneity was the key, like Ryan. Although, she had a gun…he didn't fancy getting married with a very important part of his anatomy missing.

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It had taken her completely by surprise. One moment, they were watching the Nebula 9 reruns, the next he had handed her a box as casually as he had handed her the popcorn. She only realised what it was when it wouldn't fit in her mouth.

"Kate," he had admonished, chuckling, as he took it from her teeth and opened the tiny velvet box. "I'd've thought it meant a little more than that. I hoped so, anyway." She had properly looked, then. A simple diamond was set in the small gold band. She felt a gasp rise in her throat covering her mouth to stifle it.

"Castle," she had whispered.

"Kate, from the day I met you, you have been my diamond. Always shining, always bright, even when the world wants to kick you in the face. I have loved every moment of being your partner, then your friend, and now something more. But I want to take it further and make the last step towards being with you forever – to make that 'something more' permanent. Katherine Houghton Beckett, will you marry me?" Her only response was to nod vigorously, locking him in a fierce embrace (which he returned, just as enthusiastically), Nebula 9 forgotten.

It was only in the morning, hot and sweaty they had remembered she hadn't actually put the ring on.

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**So, how'd I do? I wrote this about two months before the s5 finale, so obviously it is now AU...**

**Reviews are love, readers!**

**God bless**

**~ wolfergirl :)**


	10. Cold

**As promised, your second update of the week. Short, but I like to think it's cute :)**

**This is based on a prompt from Anon Reader. Probably (once again) different from what you expected, but ah well :)**

**Thanks for all the reviews/favourites/follows! You're all awesome :D**

**For my SeaMonkey :)**

**I don't own anything you recognise**

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He can't help it. That little squeak of indignation as he pushes the covers off them, allowing the cold winter air to hit her bare skin.

"Castle!" she sends him a half-hearted, sleepy glare that looks adorable under her sleep-tussled hair.

"Sorry," he smirks, stretching slowly before covering her once more and laying a kiss on her forehead.

When he clambers back into bed a moment later, she mumbles something incoherently and rolls towards him. As she wraps her arms around his waist and tucks her feet between his, he moans in contentment as her wonderfully warm toes wiggle against his freezing soles.

She draws in a sharp breath in shock, but is so close to dropping off her only protest is to snuggle closer.

Then it's her go in the morning, springing out of bed to chase a body, leaving him shivering and curled up in a tight ball on her recently vacated warm patch.

But it doesn't matter, because she brings him a fresh mug of his favourite blend and they share it, huddled under the blankets, facing the day together.

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**My attempt at fluff...yeah...I'll go hide over there...**

**If any of you are reading my other fic, _Beckett!_ based at the opposite end of Kate's life, I am really, really sorry for not having updated. There should be one up soon! **

**Reviews are unicorns! Even if it's just to say "yes, I liked it" or "no, I hated it", please leave one!**

**Toodles**

**~wolfergirl**


	11. Here

**Here's another one, because I had a collection of words I'd started and thought I'd finish one...**

**Thank you for all the reviews/favourites/follows - we're almost at 50 reviews, folks! I'm so excited!**

**Based on a prompt from saved240307, and inspired by _Umbrella_ by Rihanna.**

**For everyone who has reviewed - you're awesome!**

**Marlowe didn't just get given the Castle box set for his 16th :D I don't own anything you recognise.**

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_When the sun shines we'll shine together_

_Told you I'd be here forever_

_Said I'd always be your friend_

_Took an oath and I'll stick it out til the end_

_Now it's raining more than ever_

_Know that we'll still have each other_

_You can stand under my umbrella_

_You can stand under my umbrella_

It was midnight in Richard and Katherine Castle's apartment. It was not often they were in bed before the early hours of the morning, but a bout of flu combined with a frustrating case with very few leads and an abused child had rendered the pair of them exhausted. That evening, they had stumbled through the front door, kicking off their shoes as they went, falling through the bedroom door and collapsing on the bed. They had needed it.

But now, Castle was awake. He had been happily dreaming of ice cream and helicopters when a whine of terror from beside him had shaken him from his slumber. He rolled over. Kate was twisting and turning frantically, hands scrabbling at the bed sheets as she whimpered.

"Kate. Kate," he whispered, panic seeping unbidden into his sleep-filled voice. "Kate. Wake up, Kate." Her only response was to fling an arm out. Rubbing his nose as it smarted from the blow, Castle knelt up, leaning over his wife to pin her gently to the bed. "Come on Kate. You're safe. I've got you. Wake up, Kate." His heart throbbed painfully at the moan that fell from her dry lips. Another plea had her eyes flying open to search for him wildly. He crooned softly, cradling her to his chest and running a hand through her hair to calm her. She clung to him, and he vaguely registered her tears soaking into his shirt.

"Rick," she sighed, curling further into his chest. "I thought – I dreamed – you were gone, Rick." Her voice cracked and his grip tightened. He lowered his head to touch his nose to hers, brushing away the tear tracks with the pad of his thumb.

"Shh," he murmured gently, kissing her forehead. "I'm here. I'm always going to be here, Kate."

"You said you didn't want me." Her eyes trailed up his face to search his expression, arms tucked between them, fists balled up just under his heart, feeling the familiar, comforting pounding.

"I'll always want you, Kate. I'm with you the whole way. Always here, always yours. Always."

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**As a warning, the future chapters could get a little angsty. As in, I ruin my own characters with AUy stuff...**

**I'd love to hear what you thought of this one. It was a bit of an experiment.**

**Please send in requests/prompts! Thanks, Vicky, for giving me ample material for the long summer :P**

**Laters**

**~wolfergirl**


	12. Moon

**So, there's a supermoon at the moment, and I know I promised some drama, but I actually quite like this fluffy one :)**

**Thanks for the reviews, favourites, follows, prompts - you are all spectacularly awesome**

**For Dom, with whom I first watched _Wallace and Gromit: A Grand Day Out_, and couldn't stop talking about Moon Cheese.**

**I don't own anything you recognise :)**

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"Come on, boys." Kate Castle led her husband and two sons outside to the evening air, breathing in the clean smell of night and raising her head to look at the sky. Ambling towards the clearing ahead, the detective caught Castle's hand and gave it a squeeze as the familiar scent of coffee and paper and ink wafted towards her in the gentle breeze.

When they got to the patch of grass unhindered by a canopy of autumn brown, she tugged the writer down to lie next to her on the heathery bed, the boys slithering down between them as the small family gazed up at the stars.

"There's the North Star." The low rumble of Castle's voice was accompanied by a chorus of 'where?'s from Nathan and Nicky as their father raised an arm to point at the beacon of light. "And there, you've got the plough."

As he pointed out more and more constellations, Kate couldn't help but be lulled into a blanket of sleep as his soothing growl caressed her tired mind. Too soon, she was pulled from her slumber by an insistent tapping.

"Mommy - Nate says there's no man in the moon, but I can see him. Look-" three-year-old Nicky waved a pudgy arm in the direction of the glowing orb in the distance. "And Daddy says the moon is made out of cheese, but why do people want to buy Moon Cheese if they can't eat it?"

"Who wants to buy Moon Cheese, Nicky?" Kate asked with a yawn, purposefully leaning on her husband's arm as she sat up, pulling the squirming boy to her chest.

"Daddy says he owns some Moon Cheese. Why does he want Moon Cheese when he can have Earth Cheese?"

"I don't know, Rick," she teased. "Why _do_ you want Moon Cheese?" Rick huffed.

"Because Moon Cheese is super-cool, Nick-ster. Because when Daddy goes to visit his Moon Cheese, you and Nate can be the only two boys who have eaten Moon Cheese _and_ Earth Cheese. Isn't that awesome?" As Nicky nodded in wide-eyed wonder, Rick bent to kiss the top of his wife's head.

"Thanks," she muttered dryly. "You have no idea the questions that are going to spring up from this."

"You're welcome." His answering grin made it easy for Kate to imagine him as a young boy, cradled against Martha as he spun a story to his entranced mother about the phenomenon of Moon Cheese. Boys will be boys, she thought fondly as he scooped up their eldest and followed her back inside.

* * *

**Ok, so this might be the only update this week. Despite school having finished for me, Thursday through Sunday consists of 6am-11pm days because of a variety of things, so...**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one :)**

**See ya**

**~wolfergirl**


	13. Kiss

**Short (but sweet) one today, folks. Prompt from saved240307: 'Kiss'.**

**I've decided that I'm going to change my updating policy to weekly on Tuesdays OR Wednesdays, as my Wednesdays are becoming increasingly busy...**

**This means that there will be a long, slightly more angsty chapter tomorrow! Yay!**

**Much love for the reviews and alerts :)**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

* * *

He never tired of the sensation of her soft, smooth lips on his. He never tired of the ways their breaths mingled, her face reaching up to meet his. He never tired of watching her eyes close in ecstasy as he went cross-eyed trying to watch every little movement of hers – the twitch of the muscle in her left cheek, the quiver of her right eyebrow, that little moan that escaped as their tongues danced.

And the way her hands tangled in his hair as she deepened the embrace never failed to make him wonder what he did to deserve this astonishing woman.

* * *

**I've noticed that the number of reviews are dwindling, readers. Even if it's a :) or a :( or an essay on how reading this fic has changed your life (joke) then please please please let me know!**

**If I don't know what you do and don't like, I can't post things you'll enjoy!**

**On another note, I decided to watch the season 3 finale in the car the other day. Never watch a finale with your parents listening. They kept laughing at my whimpering...**

**Until tomorrow**

**~wolfergirl**

**(Yes, I know the AN is longer than the chapter. So what?)**


	14. Blue

**8 reviews! You guys are amazing, and I am really, really glad you all still like this :)**

**Based on a prompt from Anon Reader. Given that you gave it to me as 'Blue/Pink' this may be a little different to what you expected...**

**For Eleanor and Lauren, who regularly put up with my 'does this make sense?' writing during the early hours of the morning...**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

* * *

His blue eyes told so much of his story.

When she had been slumped in the starched white sheets of the hospital bed, they had been a welcome contrast to Josh's dark, serious, medical gaze, bringing a warmth to the quiet room that even her father couldn't produce.

The light in them had been extinguished once she told him she didn't remember. She deliberately kept her own sights locked on the iron chain of the hospital bracelet on her wrist, not wanting to see the desolate depths of the orbs in front of her as she took away the shred of love he held for her. His eyes had lowered too. She had watched him carefully from under her eyelids to see the flicker of sadness cross them when she affirmed that she didn't remember 'the gunshot'. They both knew what he really meant.

It was like his hope had vanished. The hope that the end of Montgomery's life could be the beginning of something new, something better, something beautiful between them, and she felt a surge of guilt settle in the pit of her stomach as she caught the sob stifled in his swallow, an almost private moment that made her feel like an intruder, an unwelcome presence in a time of mourning, the official, imposing nature of a cop wading into a grieving family's home to bring the worst news.

There was no longer the youthful, jubilant shine to them, instead a cracked, matt finish that stared blankly at her when she turned up at the book signing. That little bit of shock tinged with ferocious anger.

He had spent so long waiting for her. How many times had he sat with her father and comforted him with the bubbliness and optimism that described the writer's personality? How often had that sea of blue brought hope and determination to Ryan, Esposito and Lanie, just like it had brought her out of the darkest places to discover her own personality, to discover who she was without her mother's case? How many nights had he stayed up next to the phone, hoping it would ring with her name to bring an end to all this waiting?

Those eyes had been through too much.

Oh, there had been the good times. The times when his eyes darkened a shade in lust as they teased each other relentlessly throughout the day at the precinct; the times when they twinkled with childish laughter at the antics of one of their boys; the times when they spent a quiet evening curled up on the couch with nothing but each other. Those were the times when the blue eyes of her husband had held her just as warmly as the arms wrapped around her waist at that moment.

But she was sure that she was responsible for most of the pain that had been burned into the never-ending tunnels of blue.

When he had pleaded with her to let her mother's case go, to walk away, to remember that she was not defined by her mother's case, to have a life outside of catching her mother's killer, to latch on to those who loved her and didn't want to see her perish like a forest in a fire.

"_We are over."_

The wholesome misery that flashed momentarily in his eyes as she stalked out was instantly replaced with realisation. That's what hurt her most.

He was prepared for it.

Prepared for her blowing up and ending whatever the thing between them had been. For good.

He knew her better than she knew herself, and in that moment she knew she had to make it right, and put the joy back in the glowing spheres that held a tiny piece of her soul, the joy that had shattered like a pane of glass at her declaration.

But the ultimate rock-bottom was the betrayal that ignited in his eyes when he heard her confession.

"_I was shot in the chest and I remember every second of it."_

Betrayal.

Loss of trust.

Complete, magnanimous, utter despair.

No hope.

Nothing.

"_Beckett, what do you want?"_

They says the eyes are the gateway to the soul. When he had asked her - eyes ringed with fatigue, dull and lifeless, unseeing, unhoping, unloving, uncaring - all coherent thoughts had disappeared from her mind in a last, desperate attempt to rekindle something, everything, anything in the eyes of the man she loved, to make him whole, to relinquish the squeezing, crushing grasp she had on his soul from the months she had spent fleeing his gentle embrace.

To see his blue reflect the love in her brown.

* * *

***Ahem*. So, I might have got a little bit carried away here...**

**And I went and watched the finales to all five seasons one after the other (never do that. Bad idea)**

**Last week, at our prom, _In My Veins_ started playing and I almost had a heart attack. It was raining and everything, and then _that song_ starts up and - well, I cannot be held responsible for the flailing that occurred.**

**Prompts? Prompts with ideas of what you want in the chapter? Reviews? *hopeful face***

**See you next week, awesome people**

**~wolfergirl**


	15. Pens

**The last 'original' - that is, the last one that I wrote before publishing any :)**

**Thanks for all the reviews, favourites, follows, prompts - particularly ShtraitUp who has the right idea about how to do it...**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

* * *

Their pen pot had grown since the wedding. It was an old NYPD mug, situated on the corner of the kitchen counter next to a pad where they scribbled the grocery list, or the details for a body drop, or a phone number, or where they doodled after a long day's work.

The red pen was her favourite. He had bought it for her on a whim, as a stocking filler their first Christmas as husband and wife. The sparkles in it were beginning to run out, but she refused to get another one, claiming it ruined the sentimental value of it. God, he loved the romantic side of her.

His favourite was the black fountain pen with a figure of Darth Vader on the top. She had given it to him along with a note scrawled in her spiky lettering that now lived in his wallet, folded carefully behind the photo he carried of her.

_Scribblings of Justice – KB x_

* * *

**Not one of my favourites, but hey ho. Figured I'd give you a short, fluffy one before the planned bombshell (operative word being 'planned') next week...**

**Speaking of bombshells, if you're looking for something slightly different (because being different is fun) have a ganders at _Bloodshed_, a sequel to Watershed and Castle's proposal. A hint: it's not fluff. And no one hears Beckett's decision. Once I finish writing it, it'll be pain *evil laugh*. (Have any SPN fans read _Twist and Shout_? Paaaaiiinn)**

**Reviews are rainbows!**

**See you next week**

**~wolfergirl**


	16. Show

**Thanks to the couple of people who reviewed last chapter - you're amazing.**

**This one ruins my own storyline (from _Boys_) because I wanted to. It's part one of a pair, so you'll have to hang on to next week to see things *ahem* confirmed...**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

* * *

"For Show and Tell, I brought my dad," Matt Castle announced proudly, tugging his father behind him as he bounded to the front of the class. "His name is Richard Castle, and he is a famous writer. He followed Mom around as 'spiration for his books. He called her his 'muse'" - he and his twin paused to grin at each other - "but Mom always sent him to his room when he did." The eight-year-old beamed up at Rick.

"Dad got kicked out of loads schools when he was a kid but he still ended up famous and he says that bad grades doesn't mean you're destined to fail." At this, Castle skilfully dodged the teacher's glare.

"Dad's Mom is an actress and has an acting school, and Dad says she's dramatic enough for the whole family. Grams is cool. She's really funny, but she can't cook, and Dad has to stand by with the fire extinguisher when she makes stuff." The class giggled.

"Dad has a daughter from his first wife, and she's called Alexis. Alexis is uber-cool. She lives near us and is a teacher, and visits really often and plays laser-tag with us. Dad says she almost almost beat him, but his superior tactics stopped her. Which is so awesome. Cos Alexis is the best at laser-tag." Matt paused for breath as he thought on what to say next.

"I love my dad. He's really kind, and he knows how to have fun and how to cheer me up when I'm sad or when James is being annoying. But if I'm ever mean to someone I know my dad will be angry because Castles are always gentlemen, and gentlemen aren't mean," he recited as he nudged his dad with a sharp elbow.

"Dad has loads of really cool scars: there's one on his knee when he and Mom went skiing and Dad was doing a trick; well, Mom says he was showing off, but Dad says he never shows off, so... Then there's the one on his ear where a bad guy threw a knife at him but Dad did his ninja moves and half his ear got cut off." Several kids let out noises of horror and disgust, causing father and son to let out identical chuckles.

"Oh, and there's the big one on his chest. Dad says that's Mom's scar, because she had a similar one, and Dad got this one when there was a baddie, and he had a gun, and he was firing at Uncle Kev who worked with Mom, and then Dad tried to save Uncle Kev, but so did Mom, and they ended up crashing into each other, and-" Matt stopped. He swallowed.

This was dangerous territory, and he knew it. Joe knew it. Nate and Nicky and James knew it. This was the one story Dad didn't like to tell them, because it made him sad, and it made him cry. Dad didn't often cry, so when he did, you knew not to do it again, and you had to make him special pancakes and give him a hug.

Matthew glanced nervously at his brother, who shrugged awkwardly. A quick look towards his father saw the familiar smile stretch across the older man's lips: the smile that meant he was sad but if you 'proceeded with caution' as Nicky said, everything would be alright.

"And then Mom and Dad got shot," he finished with a whisper.

* * *

**Bam.**

**Thoughts?**

**Part two '_Tell'_ on the way next week! Stay tuned!**

**Much love and Caskett**

**~wolfergirl**


	17. Tell

**So, part 2: you've had 'Show', now it's 'Tell'. Again, bit of an experiment, this one. I'm trying to expand my writing repertoire into all genres, so...**

**Thanks for all the reviews, favourites, follows, views - you're all amazing.**

**For Vicky, with whom I have the wackiest of conversations at the oddest of times**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

* * *

"Matt brought Dad, I've got Mom." Joe high-fived both his dad and his brother as they exchanged places. "Matt and I decided that one of us would do 'Show', and the other 'Tell'. He showed our dad, so it's my go to tell you about Mom." The previously excited, bubbly class was quiet. The air with which Joe took a deep breath sent a wave of seriousness into the room, and one or two kids shivered.

"Mom and Dad met ages ago," he began. "Like Matt said, Dad shadowed Mom at work. She was a homicide detective with the NYPD, and he wanted a new idea for his book. I don't know all about back then, but Aunt Lanie says it took them four years to realise they belonged together. Then they got married, and had our brothers and us. Matt told you about Dad's biggest scar, and Uncle Kevin. My mom and dad both got shot that day. That was the scariest night of our lives." The young boy's voice shook.

"They were in hospital for ages. We had to stay with Nate the whole time. A while later, Dad was allowed out." Joe gulped. He crossed his arms and subconsciously drummed the fingers of one hand against the opposite arm.

"Mom-" he cleared his throat and started again, his voice shaking. "Mom didn't come out." There was silence. The only movement came from the boy at the front of the room who looked to his father for reassurance. Rick nodded encouragingly, discretely wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. No one noticed the lone tear escape and run down his stubbled cheek.

"Matt and I don't remember much about her," Joseph whispered. "I can remember her singing to us, and the way she would always know what we were up to, and how she would roll her eyes at us, and she'd call us all _her boys_ and at Christmas we would wake her up by jumping on her, and I remember that she always said she loved us right before we went to sleep. That's all I can remember."

Joe took another deep breath and produced a photo of a smiling woman crouched next to a man, a baby in each of their arms with three older boys stood behind them.

"Everyone says she was kind, and passionate, and the best detective on the force, and always cared about the victim and their family, and always looked for justice. But I don't know that. I've only been told that. The only thing I remember - the only thing I _know_-" He looked up and gave a sad smile. "Is that I love her."

* * *

**How'd I do?**

**This is the last chapter for at least a week, folks - I'm going on camp :D Although, if you're all your usual lovely selves and review, I might be able to get one out on Thursday before I leave... (sorry. That's mean. But hey - there are 45 of you who have this on alert, so...)**

**Have a wonderful summer, and if you feel like it, drop me a PM! I'd love to talk to some of you :)**

**~wolfergirl**


	18. Cuff

**Wow, guys! You really liked that last chapter, huh? ;) I guess it means my writing was better than I thought if it made you all cry...**

**Review thanks go to: fangurll, Thatgirljess, Prim-Rue94, conservativegirl, claudia2608, laurav88, Bookish0278, uofmcowgirl, Anon Reader, ponychic0405, guest, StarryNight251, Mouserocks-nerd. I think I replied to those of you I could, but if I didn't, holler!**

**Anyway, a slightly more fluffy, less angsty one - you all deserve it! 94 reviews, readers! Let's see if we can hit the 100 mark this time round :D**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

* * *

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaad!" Rick jolted awake, head colliding with the coffee table as he sat up suddenly. Coffee table? Oh yes; he remembered. They had been building a fort in the Sick-Day-Camp that was their living room. For the good ship Chicken Pox to have a crows' nest, they had needed to pile the flag on the coffee table on the Monopoly box on Mom's shoe boxes on the couch.

The couch which he and Nate had then fallen asleep on, exhausted after a good few hours of playing pirates. "Dad!" Rick groaned quietly as he rolled off the couch and stretched, idly noticing that his son was nowhere to be seen.

"Nathan?" An audible thud drew his attention to his and Kate's bedroom. With a sigh, he traipsed through, flicking the light on. "Nate?"

"Dad! Get them off me!" Them? Immediately, Castle's mind was filled with images of aliens arriving through their window to latch on to his five-year-old boy, followed closely by a vampire and a ghost who would proceed to suck his blood and haunt him til he died. With a howl of rage, Richard Castle burst through the bedroom door, hands raised to karate chop whatever being was in there, only to see Nathan Alexander leant against their chest of drawers with his mother's handcuffs round his tiny wrists. Locked, around his tiny wrists.

"Dad," he whined. "I can't get them off!" Rick stared at the boy, disbelief etched on his features.

"Nate, where'd you get those?" he asked, crouching down to ruffle his son's hair.

"From Mom's box," Nathan explained. "But her gun was locked properly. And her badge." Rick closed his eyes momentarily. Kate was having a girls' day out with Lanie. No way could he interrupt it by asking her to come and get their son out of her cuffs. He'd be dead, for sure.

* * *

"Kate, it's me," he said an hour later, having tried everything from pliers to butter to get the cuffs off. "How's your day going? Listen," he ploughed on before she could answer. "We have a slight problem - no, no emergency," yet, he added silently. "We - well, we're in a bit of a sticky situation. No dear, it's not the jam again. Yes, I promise. No, it does not involve duct tape - look, would you mind coming home to help us out? No, it's not messy. Yes, I'm sure! Thanks, honey. I'll see you soon." Rick turned to see Nathan watching him.

"Is Mom angry?" the boy asked.

"Not yet, buddy," his dad sighed. "But she could be soon."

* * *

"Alright, Castle. Where's this problem - _Nathan? What are you doing with my handcuffs?_" Kate eyeballed her two boys, one of whom was watching her carefully, the other quivering in the corner of the couch. "Rick, get off the couch and act like a responsible adult. Surely you can pretend for a bit?" she said scathingly. "Honestly. I leave you two for not even a whole day, and you still manage to get into a pickle."

Hooking her hands under her son's arms, she hoisted him onto her hip and carried him through to their room, depositing the squirming child on the bed and opening her bedside drawer. With a flourish, she produced her keys, and released her little monkey from the metal bands.

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Are you mad?" Kate sighed. She couldn't blame him from wanting to explore if his dad was out for the count - it was never fun being an only child whose parents weren't around to play. She just wished she could rely more on her husband to act - well, more like a husband, and take a little bit of interest in things like the safety of their son and keeping her work things away from prying eyes.

"No, Nathan." She pressed a kiss to his head. "I'm not mad. Just next time, maybe use the cuffs on your dad - I'm sure he'd appreciate the wake-up call." There. Served him right for falling asleep.

"Ok." The little boy yawned and rolled off the bed, bouncing happily (and a bit sleepily) through to Rick, handcuff torment instantly forgotten.

* * *

That night, when Nathan was in bed and fast asleep, Kate couldn't resist crawling delicately up the bed to straddle Castle, dangling her cuffs from a finger and deliberately biting her lip just the way he liked it. She watched his eyes follow the tip of her tongue as she traced the place her teeth had just been, and smirked.

"You've been a naughty boy, Richard," she purred, cuffs still taunting him as they swung back and forth on her curled, painted digit. He gulped. "I think I'm going to have to demonstrate the _proper_ use for my cuffs..." He swallowed. This should be interesting.

* * *

**Et voila! **

**A story's only as good as its readers, you know - let me know what you think! Even if it's just a :) or a :(**

**This really is the last one for at least a week**

**~wolfergirl**


	19. Roof

**Wotcha, readers! I've returned from a week full of God, grub screws, flags, jubilee clips, burning brake discs, stanker, crocker and a lot of karting.**

**And you all deserve another chapter, so here it is! This is your weekly update as I'm not sure if I'll get a chance on Tuesday/Wednesday.**

**Slightly more dramatic than the last, but hey ho.**

**Thanks for all the alerts I've been getting: the number of times I beam at my bedroom ceiling because of something one of you has said... :D**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

* * *

When you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes.

When she was hanging off the roof, all she could see was Castle.

All she could hear was Castle.

All she could smell, feel, taste, remember, love, want, need – was Castle.

Terror.

Flashing and burning through her like a rod of acid.

Pain.

In her fingertips, in her arms, in her torso, in her head. In her heart.

Surrender.

It invested itself in the tips of her boots as she ran up the stairs, spun through her legs as she launched a vicious kick at Maddox, bubbled up through her chest as she defied the man who put a bullet in her chest, burst through the ends of her hair as she was flung off the roof.

No one was coming. She was alone.

When you're about to die, the people you love flash before your eyes.

Because the people you love are your life.

* * *

**So. Yeah. Thoughts?**

**God bless**

**~wolfergirl**


	20. Hats

**BEFORE ANYONE YELLS ANYTHING, THIS WAS ALSO POSTED AS A ONE-SHOT ON AO3 UNDER THE PSEUD YELLOWSMARTIE08**

**Here's the next one, because I forgot that I'm away sailing next week...**

**Thanks for all the reviews - even though there were only a couple last chapter (hint hint). You guys are amazing. **

**For my dad, who introduced me to Sherlock at a very young age.**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

* * *

"Good morning, Kate," Castle greets her with his usual smile and bounce as she rolls out of bed, hair tussled from their late night activities and face crumpled with not enough sleep. She mumbles a reply, stumbling through to the bathroom and just managing to stay upright when she catches her toe on the corner of the dresser. He follows her movements with a fond sigh of affection and momentarily leaves the room to fix her her usual cup of coffee.

He is startled minutes later at the coffee machine when a pair of hands snake round his waist, gripping each other and giving him a firm squeeze. He lets out a squeak, only just managing to keep all the coffee in both their mugs as he twizzles, brushing a gentle kiss over her forehead and taking in her crisp, pressed shirt and dress pants with an appreciative smirk, her bare, painted toes wiggling against his Superman slippers a wonderfully domestic contrast to her professional attire. She leans into the kiss and accepts her drink, sighing in bliss as the hot liquid hits the back of her throat. As she peeks up at him from half-closed lids she catches sight of the article perched on his carefully styled hair.

"Castle? What are you wearing?" He reaches up with his spare hand and frowns, forgetting for a moment that he added a new piece of clothing to his usual outfit.

"Oh, this?" He pulls it off and places it on her brunette curls. "It's a deerstalker. I ordered it to remind me that I am the superior intellect in this street."

"Superior intellect?" She challenges his statement with a perfectly plucked, raised eyebrow, taking a step back to dodge the hand that reaches towards her to remove the hat from her head. "What about me?"

"What about you?" His brow furrows. "I'm Sherlock. You're quite clearly John."

"Quite clearly?" she splutters, jabbing him in the chest with a sharp finger. "I'm the one that detects stuff, mister. You and John are the writers in the relationship."

"Excuse me? I'll have you know that Sherlock Holmes is a Consulting Detective – and I have been referred to on multiple occasions as a police consultant. You and John both own guns, you're both protective-"

"Oh, I'm protective? Well – you and John are both tag-alongs. If it wasn't for our amazing deducting skills, you wouldn't have anywhere to be and John wouldn't have stayed with Sherlock-"

Rick pretends to contemplate her argument, causing a wide grin to spread over her face as she thought she'd won. "Well, you and Sherlock have both been in treacherous positions on rooftops. I suppose you didn't choose to, but that's one more rooftop than I've been on."

"Exactly," she smirks. "And we're musical. He plays the violin, and I play the guitar."

"And," Castle continues, seemingly ignoring her interruption. "You both don't let anyone in. I've had to scratch and claw for every inch, and it's only because of John that Sherlock has become more human."

He freezes under Kate's deadly glare. "You saying I'm not human, Castle? That I needed you to show me how to live again?" He swallows. "You know what? Let's settle this once and for all. I'm calling Espo." She pulls out her cell and dials the familiar number. "Hey – Esposito? Yeah, it's me. I'll be there soon. But quickly – who's Sherlock: me, or Castle?"

There is a crackle on the other end, and Castle leans closer to try to hear what the other detective is saying.

"Just answer it, Javi," Kate says, annoyance and impatience seeping into her voice as she pushes the loudspeaker button. They both hear the answer, loud and clear.

"Sorry, Beckett." They can hear the teasing tone of their friend, and the stifled snorts of Ryan in the background. "Not my division."

* * *

**So, how did I do?**

**Reviews are love, dear munchkins.**

**See you around**

**~wolfergirl**


	21. Slap

**Wow, is it Tuesday already? :O**

**So, I'm back from sailing (which was amazing) to find that I don't have many chapters already written to offer you. So this one is quite short. I hope it fits the bill.**

**My sister: what are you doing?**

**Me (typing): stuff**

**Sister: does it need to be done now?**

**Me: yes**

**Sister: why?**

**Me: because**

**Sister: what is it?**

**Me: fanfiction**

**Sister: so it doesn't need to be done now**

**-.-**

**Anyway, a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed. In particular, shout out to conservativegirl for always reviewing with a short and sweet sentence. (There are others of you who always review but I talk to you more regularly so you know who you are :P )**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

* * *

If he thought she had a million and one expressions, it was nothing compared to the number of slaps in her arsenal.

There was the coffee slap, permitted when he stole a sip of her morning cup. His knuckles bore the red imprint of her pen for days.

Then there was the gentle slap, one of his favourites. You could hardly call it a slap, really, as it was more of an affectionate pat on the cheek, commonly dealt when he had been complaining petulantly about something trivial.

Very similar to the gentle slap was the Slap, when he'd (apparently) been acting inconsiderately, or with his 'jackass head' on. It always stung like hell, but rarely left a mark. It was mainly the humiliation of having a beautiful detective – who happened to be your muse – turning up at your latest book launch party and giving you a hefty whack. The press loved it.

There was also the 'stop interrupting my interrogation' slap, delivered to the back of the head and accompanied by a rant. He had once told her that she looked hot yelling at him. He had got another slap for that, and the Beckett Glare – she had looked hot doing that too, but he'd learnt his lesson the first time.

* * *

**Thoughts?**

**Also, for those of you following _Bloodshed_, chapter 2 should be up soon, as soon as I can convince my mum that I don't need to go clothes shopping...**

**~wolfergirl**


	22. Fort

**I have some sad news. This is going to be the last regular update for a while, as life has happily exploded on me - with the start of Sixth Form, an NYO audition, moving house, and trying to complete all manner of courses I've somehow signed myself up for, attempting to get one chapter a week up is not going to happen.**

**For which, I apologise.**

**That said, when I write a chapter, I'll post it - deal?**

**This is the same for _Beckett!,_ however with _Bloodshed_, due to the fact that chapter plans occupy most of my bedroom wall and I have three sort-of-betas keeping me on my toes, that is one fic I shall be updating to the best of my ability.**

**Right. Boring stuff over.**

**This chapter was inspired by the wonderful Vicky - ta, Doc!**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

* * *

"Dad?" The whisper tickled Rick's ear and he swatted in its general direction. His half-hearted flail was greeted with a slightly strained giggle that turned into a gasp as the next clap of thunder sounded. "Dad? Dad, wake up. Nicky's scared."

With a groan, Rick turned over. Standing by his bedside table was Nathan, clutching Nicky's small hand in his own. The writer smiled sleepily.

"Nicky's scared, huh? But he's got you, little man. He doesn't need to be scared when you're around." Rick ruffled his youngest son's hair before his head rolled back and he let out a snore.

"Dad?" There was no answer. Nathan huffed. "Come on. Let's go make some hot chocolate."

* * *

"Dad?"

"Whesafire?" Rick shot up to see what he thought were his two boys, currently cloaked in a film of cocoa dust. "What - what happened?" he asked, bemused.

"Choc'late," Nicky explained proudly. Putting two and two together, Rick scrambled out of the bed and flumped in the direction of the kitchen to skid to a halt at the doorway and gape.

"Boys, it's almost as bad as when Grams is here!"

It was true. Cocoa powder covered everything from the light bulbs to the top of the fridge. There was a bottle of milk steadily dribbling down the island onto an open packet of marshmallows, and for some reason the entire room was full of a cloud of icing sugar.

Amount of clearing up to be done aside, Rick was quite impressed with the level of damage they'd managed to achieve without waking up either him or Kate.

With a final yawn, he shooed his sons towards the sink and handed them a cloth.

"Let's get this place back to normal, kids."

* * *

"Oomph." Rick woke with a gasp as two warm bodies landed on him, giggling and wriggling til he stood up from the couch and shook them off. "All clean then?" he asked as he attempted to shake his head free of sleep.

"Uh-huh." Nathan nodded vigorously. "Can we make a fort, Dad?"

"A fort? Nathan, it's three in the morning! We should all be asleep - " His bid for rest was interrupted by the loudest bang of thunder yet and the youngest Castles yelped and dived at their father, who sighed and held them close. "I'll get the blankets."

* * *

"We can't do it upstairs, or we'll wake Mom," Rick said for the umpteenth time, watching Nathan and Nicky hand each other cushions and blankets and chairs and jumpers as they reorganised their room.

"But Dad," Nate whined once more. "It'll take too long to take everything downstairs."

Rick sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound, he decided, standing up and chucking the small collection of building materials into the master bedroom.

"Your challenge, should you choose to accept it," he said straight-faced, staring at the boys with a serious expression. "Is to build your fort on our bed without waking Mom up. If you disturb her, you're off to bed. Agreed?" They shook on it. And then the carnage began.

* * *

A sleepy Kate Beckett woke in the morning to find herself under a canopy of tartan and patchwork, surrounded by two warm bodies tucked into her sides and her husband slowly sliding off the edge of the bed with his mouth wide open, before she rolled over and went back to sleep.

All was well in the Castle household.

* * *

**Thoughts?**

**Also, for some in between time reading:**

_**A Beautiful Mind**_** by APseudonimo**

_**Live Fast Die Young**_** by Mouserocks-nerd**

_**The Scene After**_** by Caskett4Life**

**For those of you who missed it up there:**

**I have some sad news. This is going to be the last regular update for a while, as life has happily exploded on me - with the start of Sixth Form, an NYO audition, moving house, and trying to complete all manner of courses I've somehow signed myself up for, attempting to get one chapter a week up is not going to happen.**

**For which, I apologise.**

**That said, when I write a chapter, I'll post it - deal?**

**This is the same for _Beckett!,_ however with _Bloodshed_, due to the fact that chapter plans occupy most of my bedroom wall and I have three sort-of-betas keeping me on my toes, that is one fic I shall be updating to the best of my ability.**


	23. Swat

**Wotcher readers :) look! I wrote one!**

**For Vicky, who is slaving away doing physiology revision for tomorrow. Good luck, Doc, you'll be amazing :)**

**I don't own anything you recognise.**

* * *

Kate looked up to see her husband frantically spinning around the living room, waving his arms above his head with a wild expression painted on his face.

"What are you doing now, Rick?" she asked tiredly. He paused momentarily to gaze at her with an affronted frown.

"There's a fly," he whined, resuming his windmill impression. Kate sighed. Of course he'd react like this.

"What's the problem? It's not going to hurt you." Castle let out a grunt of pain as his floundering hand whacked the edge of the bookshelf.

"It's annoying," he moaned. His eyes lit up as he spotted the bright orange fly swat tucked between two books.

"Well, you're annoying sometimes, but I don't try to kill you!" Kate couldn't resist the dig, and smiled fondly at the mock-wounded huff from the man-child.

"Die – you – stupid – fly! Leave – me – alone!" Each word was punctuated by a slap of the swat as Castle bounded after the evasive fly, chasing it round the couch, through the kitchen, past Kate, towards the window, and – "Got it!" he called triumphantly, inspecting the underside of the plastic hand to see the remnants of a wing.

"You definitely got _something_," Kate retorted, eyeing the trail of destruction that led to her husband. A vase had been knocked off the mantelpiece and lay shattered on the floor beneath a stack of papers that had cascaded off the kitchen top, pulling a mug of coffee with it. By Castle's feet lay the remnants of their curtain rail, tangled in the curtain itself after a particularly enthusiastic wave of the swat had brought it down.

Castle cast a sheepish look at the woman standing opposite him, hand on hip and unimpressed expression burning into him.

"Oops?"

* * *

**Thoughts?**

**Also, anyone else excited for season 6? (Stupid question, really)**

**See ya :)**


End file.
